I’m just going to say it. I don’t like barbecuing. Here we are in the land where you can barbecue all year round and every time my husband says, “Let’s grill!” my heart sinks a little bit. First of all, the coals take so long to get ready (warm up? whiten? whatever you call it) that we invariably don’t eat until after 9 p.m. My husband and I have this argument every time; he says “It’ll take 20 minutes,” and I’m like, yeah, if by 20 minutes you mean an hour and a half, because that’s how long it takes every time. For. Ev. Er.
Second, barbecuing is not “easier,” as my husband claims, waving his hand and saying, “Let’s just grill. I’ll do it. It’ll be easier.” No, it’s not easier. Because you still have to have a side dish. Or two. And if company’s coming over, multiply that by appetizers, salad, and dessert. What’s easier about that?
Third, hamburgers. Barbecued hamburgers always turn out to be small little meatballs. Or big meat hunks. Or thin crunchy discs. You know what? I have a recipe for hamburgers that I make on my grill pan and they’re delicious. It’s easier. And faster. And just plain better! I don’t want to barbecue and I don’t care who knows it!
Phew. It felt good to get that off my chest. But in the meantime, my husband bought this ridonkulous ginormous barbecue, so it looks like it’ll be crunchy discs at midnight for us for a while longer. Think of me when you eat at a decent hour.